


Elementary, My Dear Curran

by yurileclercseyeliner



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Eldritch Family, Hein is Sherlock and Curran is Watson, Heinwald is bored, I can't bring myself to kill off any of the canon cast, I just needed it to make sense for the characters, Lathna will be there too but it will be in a later chapter, M/M, Sherlock Holmes AU, Slow Burn, The Illian Church/the Paladyns are the Scotland Yard, The original characters are just murder victims, also is Hein's accent German?, also screw historical accuracy I'm going to let them be gay without people being homophobic, it sounds like it but I'm not sure, oh my god they were roomates, they are all too precious to me, yes I know Watson was not a detective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yurileclercseyeliner/pseuds/yurileclercseyeliner
Summary: Curran and Heinwald's misadventures investigating crimes in 19th century London.
Relationships: Curran/Heinwald (Dragalia Lost)
Kudos: 11





	Elementary, My Dear Curran

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is actually my first fic. I've read fic for years but I never really written any, and then I had a sudden urge to read a Sherlock Holmes AU with the Eldritch family. I never found one so now I'm writing it myself. I hope you enjoy!

London. A bustling center of change and industry. A city home to people from all walks of life. Of course, not all said walks of life are entirely soral or mafe-

Wait.

Shit.

That aside, London can be full of trouble if you go poking your nose in dangerous places. That’s where the Scotland Yard comes in. We investigate crimes in London and keep people safe from all sorts of unsavory types, from murderers to petty thieves. Most of our investigations are quick, you check out the scene, you go down the list of suspects, and you pluck out the culprit. Simple. Well, at least it was simple until an eccentric decided to throw himself into the mix. 

My name is Curran Watson, a Scotland Yard inspector. And these are my misadventures with a certain Heinwald Holmes. 

It all started with a murder, you know how it is. Our Commander, Elisanne, sent me along with Tobias and Hope, Chief Inspector and Constable respectively, to check out the crime scene. The victim was some rich sop named Nathaniel Wooster, who owned La Maison de Theatre, this expensive theater on the West End. He was found by one of his actors slumped over in an empty dressing room with his head smashed in, blood all over the walls. A pretty nasty scene, if I’m being honest. Tobias and I discussed the facts of the case on the carriage ride over, while Hope listened intently while practically bouncing out of his seat, probably excited for his first investigation. He reminded me a bit of how I was when I was a recruit. I still couldn’t really tell if he had the stomach for the job yet, though. 

“I think we’ve covered everything, Curran. I feel as though we need to get a closer look at the scene and the suspects before we go making any conclusions,” said Tobias, closing files he had been reading and placing them back in his bag.

“Makes sense, we haven’t really been given any details about the timing of the death and who was there, so that’s a good place to start,” I replied, glancing out the window at the pedestrians walking the street.

“Hey, Inspector, this is a little off-topic, but how are you doing finding that new flat? Do you have a flatmate yet?” asked Hope.

Two months earlier I had gotten a pay raise after cracking a particularly difficult case, and it was enough that I had decided to move out of my old, dusty flat that looked like it was going to collapse in on itself any minute. It was time, and it wasn’t like I was going to miss my old flatmate. It’s not that I disliked him or anything, it’s just that we never really bothered to get to know each other. He didn’t really seem to mind either, if I’m being honest. 

“Uh, actually the search is basically over. I found this nice place on Baker Street. The landlady said that she already had someone who was also interested in moving in, so I didn’t really need to go looking for someone. I should be moving in within the next two weeks,” I answered. 

“Oh, cool! Must be nice not having to worry too much about finding a person to move in with!” Hope replied cheerfully.

The carriage stopped in front of the theater as the conversation died down. A young man with blond hair with a bright yellow suit to match stood in front of the theater. 

“Ah, you must be those Scotland Yard folks who are here to investigate the theater. My name is Fritz, I discovered the body,” said the young man, who didn’t seem too shaken by the situation, at least on the outside. 

Tobias was the first to speak.

“Yes, I am the Chief Inspector. Since you discovered the body I believe you will be the first to be questioned.”

“Ah, of course, who else needs to be questioned?” Fritz responds politely. 

“Every performer and crew member who had been inside the theater within the past 24 hours,” Tobias answered. He then turned to speak to me and Hope. “Hope, you will be joining me in questioning the witnesses. Curran, I want you to take a look at the body and then mark off the crime scene.”

“Yes sir!” Hope affirmed cheerfully. 

“Got it. So it’s just backstage in the main theater, right?” I said, mentally preparing myself for the stench of rotting flesh and stale blood.

Fritz confirmed this for me and told me that the specific dressing room was the first door on the left wing. I left Tobias and Hope behind and made my way to the stage. 

“Damn, this place really is fancy,” I said to myself, taking in the heavy amount of red velvet and gold accents used in the decorations. No wonder rich people flocked there, the place oozed with expensive, even if it was a bit much for my taste. 

I climbed up the steps on the side and pushed my way through the bright crimson curtain. As I reached the door Fritz had directed me to, I heard scuffling noises on the other side.

Someone else was here. 

I didn’t recall Elisanne sending any other investigators, and I didn’t know who in their right mind would go poking around a murder scene just because. I knocked loudly on the door.

“Hello? Who’s in there?’

No answer. 

“This is a crime scene, who the hell are you?”

Suddenly, a voice with a slight German accent responded.

“A bored person who might be close to solving this mystery for you, now can you please stop your incessant chatter so I can think?”

Seeing as I was getting pretty impatient, I decided to slam the door open. I then laid my eyes on a strange looking man on the ground, removing the shoes from the body’s feet. The man had long black hair with white streaks, visible stitches on his face, and unnatural purple discoloration on his skin. He wore small, round glasses and a black pinstripe suit that had been stained pretty badly by all of the blood on the floor. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re tampering with the evidence, the only people who are authorized to be back here right now are members of the Yotland Scard! Who are you?” I shouted, with the man in front of me looking pretty unimpressed. 

The man slowly stood up with a bored expression on his face. “Allow me to answer your questions in order. First off, I’m investigating a murder because I’m bored and I believe I can do it faster and more accurately than most of you imbeciles at the Scotland Yard. As for your second question, I am a bored scientist. You may call me Heinwald Holmes. Now that your questions are out of the way, allow me to pose one of my own: Do you always stumble over your words like an idiot every time you open your mouth?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any constructive criticism you can leave it in the comments! I'm always looking for some way I can improve.


End file.
